


Crumpled Bed Sheets, Crisp Bills

by ferenteeny



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-13
Updated: 2014-09-13
Packaged: 2018-02-17 05:46:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2298641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ferenteeny/pseuds/ferenteeny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Is that how you measure your worth; in money?”<br/>“Is there any other way I should?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crumpled Bed Sheets, Crisp Bills

He wasn't surprised to wake up the only one in bed, but he was surprised to wake up to the sound of running water.

He shifted, turning over on his side, the bed sheet sliding down to his hips, and saw a stack of hundreds already neatly prepared on the nightstand, the hotel's complimentary Bible placed on the top corner to keep them in place. Over the edge of the bed he could see their clothes still left where they fell abandoned on the floor last night: the legs of his pants doing a tango with the cotton white of his guest's shirt sleeves, black and brown belts snaking between boxers and undershirts, their ties tossed on the side having a rendezvous of their own. The door to the bathroom was left slightly ajar and he could hear the dull echo of the water from the shower cascading off the tile walls, the low murmur of a hum catch in his customer's throat, some tune that he didn't quite recognize but sounded strangely haunting and familiar at the same time, that he found his lips wording the ghost of the lyrics to. Retreating to the bathroom not an option, he stretched from the warmth and comfort of the queen sized bed, still keeping his lower half covered in a tangle of bed sheets, and busied himself by straightening out the mess on the floor, separating his clothes from his guest's much larger ones and folding them into two separate piles.

He finished fixing the clothes just when he heard the shower taps creak to a stop, the flow of the water ceasing in a hushed silence. He wanted to roll back over and feign stirring himself awake, but before he could his guest emerged from the bathroom, the blonde tendrils of his hair still hanging in wet clumps, a towel wrapped around his waist. A look of surprise followed by a small smile crossed his face when his eyes caught glimpse of the now neatly folded clothes.

“Thank you.”

He sat up, swung his legs over the opposite edge of the bed, and began dressing himself, his back towards his guest. “You're still here.”

The blonde followed suit, sliding his arms into his dress shirt and began buttoning the top buttons, the red marks on his neck and chest quickly disappearing beneath snaps of white cotton. “Is that a problem?”

He stood up as he stepped into his slacks and refastened his belt, the sound of the leather hissing between his belt loops filling the silence in the pause between them. “You stayed. They don't usually stay. You surprised me.”

He heard the towel tumble to the floor and the jingle of metal against polyester as the blonde stepped into and fastened his own pants and belt. “And… if I wanted to stay longer…?”

He popped his collar up to fix and fasten his tie, quickly looping it into a Windsor knot. He flicked his collar down, shifting his tie as he looked at his reflection in the glass of the window, overlooking a line of skyscrapers. “You'd be wasting your time… and money,” he said to the man’s reflection, cocking his head at the stack of bills on the nightstand. “You already paid me for my services.”

His eyes dipped to the champagne colored carpet as he busied himself with tucking his shirt into his pants. He heard the floor creak beneath him as the blonde's footsteps approached him, and when he raised his head that body was right behind him, those blue eyes looking at him, pinning and piercing through the reflection of the window.

“Is that how you measure your worth; in money?” The blonde’s hot breath tickled the top of his head and the back of his ear, the other man easily towering over him. He felt the other man’s arms wrap around his neck, their weight warm and heavy, stifling like a wool scarf worn far too early in the year.

His tongue rose to the roof of his mouth in an aggravated click. “Is there any other way I should?”

He reached for the man’s arms in hopes of ridding their weight off his chest, but the man caught his wrists in his hand, binding him in the grip of his thumb and middle fingers. His wrists still held firmly in the man’s grasp, the blonde forced their arms to wrap around his waist. His thumbs, the hands that pinned his wrists and held him his hands at side of his head as they fucked last night, were pressed differently against his skin than they had been hours ago. Instead of the biting of nails he felt the warm of the pad of the man’s fingers; the additional heat threatening to make his body spontaneously combust. He felt the blonde’s chin cradle into the crook of his neck, his voice warm on his ear once more.

“Tell me… why did you decide to go into this profession?”

He scoffed. The answer seemed obvious. “Because I'm good at it.”

“Is that the only reason?”

The puffs of the blonde’s breath, his hands wrapped around his own, were becoming far too constricting. He twisted his hands and grabbed the blonde's, plucking them off of him by the wrists, and released himself from his grasp. He turned around to face him, taking a step back to press his back up against the coolness of the window. He was grateful for the chill against his back and the inches of space separating him and his customer.

“What other reason would I have?”

The blonde shrugged, slipping his hands into his pockets, his thumbs poking out. “I just find it interesting, is all. An…” He paused as if choosing his words carefully. “… _intimate_ profession such as this... I’m just curious as to why you would choose it.”

He pushed past the blonde, taking a seat at the edge of the bed to put on his shoes. “There’s nothing intimate about what I do. I do my job, plain and simple.” He looked up at the blonde from where he was bent over. “Besides – you’re the one paying me; I don’t think you have any right to judge.”

The blonde raised his palms up in defense. “I’m not judging in the least.” Walking past him, the blonde pulled out his wallet from his back pocket and hovered by the nightstand, bathing in the light of the bedside lamp. He heard the crinkling of bills being pulled out, and turned to see the blonde throwing a couple more hundreds and what looked like a business card down on the nightstand.

“You don’t have to –” He started. “We didn’t–”

The blonde smiled as he slipped his wallet back in his pocket. “Serves me right for staying, hm?” He threw his suit blazer on over his shoulders and headed for the door. Hand on the handle; he turned back to him.

“Besides, you’re worth more than that.”

He watched the black of the blonde's suit jacket disappear as he closed the door behind him. A sudden weight filled him as he sat alone in the hotel room; a loneliness heavier than if he had woken up alone.


End file.
